


Time Off

by DownToTheSea



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-19 21:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15519426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DownToTheSea/pseuds/DownToTheSea
Summary: After the mothership is damaged, Lucy, Flynn, and the rest of the Time Team enjoy a rare chance to relax and have a few quiet days off.





	Time Off

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AgentMaryMargaretSkitz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentMaryMargaretSkitz/gifts).



> Written as part of the Timeless Fic Exchange, for the prompt "Garcy fluff at any stage in time." Could be read as either pre-relationship or established. I hope you enjoy this! :D

Lucy woke up slowly, awareness coming back to her in gradual waves. She had the most delicious sense of… lightness. Freedom. It was sort of like waking up on holiday from school, but the weight lifted off her shoulders was much greater. It took her a minute to remember what it was.

On their last mission, they got the upper hand for once, and chased Emma all the way back to the mothership. She'd gotten away, but not before Flynn emptied two clips into the ship: enough to do some pretty serious damage, according to Rufus. “Not proton torpedo in the Death Star shaft bad,” he explained, but enough to ground Rittenhouse for at least a few days or even weeks.

Agent Christopher had set all of the people and resources she had to finding Rittenhouse HQ and potentially taking them down while they were stuck in the present. “Except you all,” she'd said when Rufus and Jiya began offering to help. “You've been working around the clock, you've all been through hell the last few months… Take some time off, people.” Her eyes twinkled despite her stern voice. “That's not a request.”

When Agent Christopher spoke in that tone, they listened. Rather awkwardly, they'd scattered off to spend a few hours on whatever hobbies they had maintained during the near-constant fight against Rittenhouse. It took until dinner to realize that yes, they really could relax, and then they all poured back into the main room almost as if drawn together by magnets.

Rufus and Jiya were on the couch eating chips and arguing companionably about Star Trek and something called Babylon 5. They dragged a reluctant Wyatt into the debate, though he kept insisting he had no idea what a White Star was and whether or not it would kick the Enterprise’s ass. Connor was at his computer, pretending to be annoyed at the noise, but after a while he dragged his chair over with an impassioned defense of “that marvel of Starfleet engineering, the Constitution class,” at which point Rufus clutched his heart and groaned, “Et tu, Brute?”

Lucy was grinning more broadly than she remembered she could, her book forgotten in her lap, when she saw Flynn slip into the kitchen. Curious, she got up and went over to him.

“Come to join the debate?” she inquired.

“No.” His mouth twisted into a wry smile, even if there was unconcealed fondness in his expression when he looked over at the bickering group in the next room. “Just making myself something to eat.”

Lucy leaned on the counter, resting her chin on her hand and looking up at Flynn, who visibly swallowed under her gaze. “Just yourself?”

So that was how Flynn was not so reluctantly suckered into making dinner for the whole team. None of them could remember exactly when they'd discovered he was easily the best cook around, but after sampling some of his work for the first time, Rufus had said, “I mean, he's probably laced it with arsenic or something, but I don't even care because that's the best meal I've had in  _ months.” _

There weren't any comments of that sort that night, though. Slowly and awkwardly, they had accepted Flynn as one of their own. At least, most of the time. But it was enough that the warm smile he usually reserved for Lucy's eyes only started showing a little more obviously on his face.

A sci-fi marathon was begun after dinner, presumably to prove points on one side or the other, but Lucy was tired after the mission, so she had excused herself and gone to bed. Not  _ her  _ bed, exactly. Some habits had carried over from the bunker into their new safe house.

“Morning,” she said drowsily, turning and burrowing into Flynn's chest. He was already awake, propped up a little with a book in one hand and the other absently playing with her hair.

“Morning.”

Lucy yawned, stretching beneath the blankets before curling back into Flynn's side. She'd crashed completely as soon as her head hit the pillow last night. There was just something really freeing about knowing she wasn't going to get woken up at 3:30 in the morning by the harsh blaring of the alarm and Rittenhouse trying to assassinate Joan of Arc or something.

“Whatcha reading?” she mumbled, peering at the cover out of the corner of one eye. She couldn't make much out, since his hand was mostly covering it and her angle was bad, and she didn't feel like abandoning her current position.

“Mmm, it's  _ very  _ fascinating. The author is quite the genius.”

Lucy could practically hear him smirking. Suspicion growing, she pushed herself up and snatched the book from him. Sure enough, it was one of hers: there on the cover was “By Lucy Preston.”

She dropped it unceremoniously back onto his chest, coughing to cover the laugh that bubbled up at his smug little grin. “If you’re gonna be like that, I’m going to leave and go eat breakfast,” she told him, resuming her former position and poking him lightly in the side.

He hummed, clearly not impressed by this threat. Lucy had to admit it didn't have a lot of force, given how she was still snuggling into him.

“You’re not leaving,” he pointed out after a minute.

“I didn’t say when. Besides, it’s cold,” Lucy said. “And you’re warm.”

“Succinct. I'll tell Agent Christopher I have another new role on the team: hot water bottle.”

“You're very qualified.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

She could feel his chuckle reverberating through her. His fingers threaded lightly through her hair again, and Lucy gave a contented hum.

_ “Do  _ you want breakfast?” he asked a while later.

“Yeah, but… I’d rather be here right now,” Lucy admitted, not quite meeting his eyes at that and tucking herself a little deeper into him.

“Alright,” said Flynn softly. He kept stroking her hair, the smooth, repetitive motion soothing her until she was nearly drifting off again.

Then, of course, the moment had to be interrupted by her stomach rumbling loudly. After the initial flash of mortification, she buried her face in his chest with a snort and a helpless giggle. For a second he laughed with her, but then let go of her and moved away, preparing to get up.

She caught at his hand, tugging fruitlessly. “Hey, where are you going? You've got hot water bottle stuff to do.”

“Breakfast,” said Flynn. “I have to get there before Wyatt wastes all the eggs burning one omelet after another. Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about my new duties.”

Lucy sat up, shifting over to his recently vacated spot and letting residual heat wrap around her. “Flynn, are you offering me breakfast in bed?”

She hadn't meant that to sound suggestive (mostly), but he turned a nice shade of pink and looked down. “I'll, uh… see if there's any coffee left,” he said, and hurried out.

Lucy smiled after him. Garcia Flynn, destroyer of the Hindenburg, blushing maker of breakfasts in bed. Sometimes she couldn't believe they'd gotten here. And whatever this was now, she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

 

Eventually they made their way out to the main room, where they spent most of the morning reading and watching old movies. Rufus and Jiya were quietly playing some sort of tabletop game nearby, rolling dice and moving figures and jotting things down on papers scattered all over the rickety folding table they’d dragged out from somewhere.

They reeled Connor in without too much trouble, and Jiya tried to get Lucy and Flynn to join in as well, but Lucy didn’t think she was up for the lengthy explanation that would no doubt be required to bring her up to speed. All the missions were beginning to catch up with her now that she had a chance to slow down and realize how exhausted she really was.

“Later?” she suggested, marveling at how wonderful it felt to have a later that was open and free of desperate attempts to save history.

“Sure,” Jiya said with a grin.

Lunch rolled around before anyone quite knew it, after which Rufus and Jiya teamed up on Denise for another project.

“Just a quick trip,” Rufus said. “Well, two trips. But we'll be fast.”

“No,” Denise said firmly. “Just in case you underestimated the amount of time the mothership will be incapacitated. I'm sorry, but we can't take that major of a chance.”

“But the Star Wars premiere!”

“But the Star Trek premiere!”

This was in perfect unison, and Lucy pressed her lips together to hide a smile.

Flynn wasn't even trying to hide his amusement. He leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Shall we leave them to it?”

This seemed a wise idea before she could get pulled into either side of the debate, so she took Flynn's hand and slipped out the back door with him.

Their new safehouse was buried in the plains in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by corn fields, soybean fields, wheat fields, and occasionally more corn fields. They couldn't go far without abandoning the little cover of the trees around their small house, but compared to the old bunker it seemed like miles of space.

The cold of the morning had mostly worn off, leaving it just pleasantly chilly enough that they were grateful for the bright sunlight. Lucy and Flynn made their way to what had become their favorite haunt: a swinging bench underneath one of the oldest trees in the backyard.

Lucy had brought her book, but her concentration wasn't really on it. It was so nice outside in the sun, and so nice to be able to just sit here quietly, everything slow and easy for once. Eventually she just watched the breeze flicker through the long grass, listening to Flynn breathing softly next to her, and felt a sense of peace wash over her.

On the rare occasion they had a few quiet hours to themselves, Lucy almost imagined she could catch a glimpse of some shadowy future where it was her and Flynn like this, tucked away somewhere peaceful and out of the way. She tried not to put too much faith in it; they had no idea where the fight against Rittenhouse would take them, or what they would lose, or if they would even win at all. But at times like this, she let herself hope, just a little.

Flynn pushed against the ground with one foot, rocking them slightly. The sun sank lower on the horizon, casting a warm reddish-orange light over them, and still they stayed where they were.

Lucy was reluctant to leave and break the moment, in case it turned out that Denise was right and their time was more limited than they thought. Rufus had said they had several days at least, so she knew rationally that tonight wasn’t the end. But any more restful, even normal days seemed too good to be true.

“Lucy,” Flynn murmured after a while.

“Mm?” She lifted her head, tilting it to get a better angle and look him in the eyes.

“Have any plans for tomorrow?”

Lucy felt her mouth curving up despite herself. Leave it to Flynn to try and reassure her unspoken worry.

“You have something in mind?”

“Maybe.” He glanced down at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “If you're available.”

Lucy smiled. “You know what, Flynn? I think I will be.”


End file.
